


The Nearness of You

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Flashfic Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: As the investigation in Queenscliff continues, Phryne contemplates how being close to Jack makes her feel.





	The Nearness of You

**Author's Note:**

> When this title came up in the prompts list, I immediately thought of Norah Jones’ song of the same name, and that’s what I ran with - I found out after I was mostly done that Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra also recorded this song, which was originally written in 1937. So let’s just say I’m channelling all of them, shall we?
> 
> Also, mea culpa: The prompt was actually "Nearness of You" but I know myself well enough to know that the missing "The" would bug me, so I added it. I hope that's OK!

As they hung from the wooden railing of the pier, Phryne glanced over at Jack, taking note of the way the moonlight bathed his features, casting deep shadows that emphasized the angle of his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. His mouth hung slightly open, which should have detracted from his attractiveness, but didn’t, somehow. The memory of sidling up behind him under the lamp earlier speared through her mind, when his sardonic humor— “A mouse who wears French perfume” —and the deeply satisfying smell of him when she’d tucked her body close had sent a wave of lust through her. Her body was still loose and wanting, a sensation that she deeply appreciated but would have preferred in a more appropriate setting.

Now, having listened to the conversations they’d come to hear, she considered their options for getting away without being seen, and only one seemed viable. Perhaps the cold water would clear her head. 

“I think we've seen all we need to for the moment, don't you?” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears—really, the man should not be so attractive in a situation like this.

“It's only right that I escort you home.”

Dear Jack, always so quick on the uptake. “If you insist.” 

With a wink, she let go, dropping straight down into the water. Jack splashed in beside her a moment later, one hand on his hat. Meeting his eyes, she grinned and began to swim toward shore, the water cool and bracing. It had the effect on her libido that she’d hoped, allowing her to think through what they’d heard.

“I’d bet that cargo was less than legal,” she said, turning to face him as they reached the shallows side by side. Though the night air was warm, she shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around her body.

“Likely an accurate assumption,” Jack said, tugging at his overcoat. “I’d offer this, but I’m not sure it’d help.”

“It’s all right, Jack—it’s not far,” she replied. She tried to ignore the way her teeth were chattering. “Let’s get in and warmed up, shall we?”

With a nod, he stepped closer and wrapped a long arm around her shoulders. Instantly, she was warm again, though perhaps not in the way he’d intended. He’d touched her before—he’d even carried her once, not that she’d been in any state to appreciate it—and tucking her hand inside his elbow had become almost routine. But this was more. She felt the line of his body, all muscle and heat, his hip bumping gently against hers as they made their way across the sand toward the McNasters’ house.

Her eyes met his, and she must have looked as shocked as she felt.

“All right, Miss Fisher?” He murmured the question, his voice low and intimate.

“More than.” The words left her on a sigh, and she loosed one arm to wrap it around his narrow waist beneath his overcoat and jacket. A thrill of pleasure went through her when she heard the small hitch of his breath.

“Let’s get you home, then.”

As they walked, seawater squelched in their shoes, his overcoat shed rivers, and the wind cut through her thin blouse as if it was not there at all. They didn’t speak, just moved unhurriedly away from the beach, their steps in sync. Phryne breathed deeply, remembering the moment in Gerald’s study where she’d moved in to look over his shoulder at the fisherman’s autopsy report; Jack smelled as good now as he had then, albeit with a slightly salty, fishy tang added to his usual fragrance. How was it that simply walking beside this man could arouse her more than some of the men she’d taken to her bed ever had? 

They let themselves in through the kitchen door; standing in the small mudroom, Jack let his arm drop slowly away from her shoulders, though he didn’t move away. Phryne met his eyes, aware of the soft dripping of their clothes, the silence weighted and meaningful. 

“Phryne, I—” 

“Miss Fisher! Inspector!” Dot’s voice was an unwelcome shock of cold against the heat of the space between them. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Detecting, Dot, what else?” Phryne said, proud of how normal her voice sounded, even as her stomach swooped with disappointment—whatever Jack had been about to say, she’d wanted to hear it. 

Jack’s smile as he stepped back was a small thing, only a quirk of the lips, and he tilted his head as he held Phryne’s eyes. _Perhaps another time_ , the slight lift of his eyebrow said, and Phryne nodded slightly. There would be another time, and a more intimate setting in which to explore what happened between them. She’d make sure of it. 

“Well, I hope it was worth it,” her faithful companion muttered as she bustled around them both. “You’ll catch your death.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jack murmured, shrugging off his overcoat and hanging it on the hooks behind the door. “Good night, Dorothy, Miss Fisher.”

“I’ll ask Kip to see to your suit, inspector,” Dot said, tossing a towel around Phryne’s shoulders and steering her toward the back staircase. Phryne barely noticed, her eyes on Jack as he moved off down the hall to the room he’d been given.

She could still feel the heat of his arm around her shoulders, his body against hers. If he could make her feel this way with barely a touch—and not an intimate one at that—what would he be like when he came to her bed? She shivered at the thought, prompting another flurry of concern from Dot.

In truth, it frightened her a little to contemplate what could happen between them, not least because he was her friend and she wanted him to stay that way. What if lovemaking cast a pall over what they had now? She supposed that she could be a little patient, for once, and let this play out a bit longer. And in the meantime, she would appreciate him… not chastely, hardly that, but innocently. After all, half the fun was in the journey, and spending time alongside Jack Robinson would be no hardship at all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Fear of Shallow Living](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455438) by [Sarahtoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo)




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